I was pacing the room, stewing in my frustration. Thinking back, even though we haven't done any teamwork or training exercises, maybe I should have summoned Marblehoof. With his prodigal strength, he's admitted to having some difficulty controlling his power, but with Alabaster and the twins there...
I groan, hastening my walk to bleed off some energy. If I want to blame myself for anything, it should be my pointless pride. I thought I could handle the remaining capes the Empire could field. I didn't even try to do things smart and stay hidden, I didn't take the support role I should have. My useless pride pushed me into a direct confrontation instead of where my skills excel. Even in the vague memories tied to my Huntsman training, I wasn't the frontline of my team, but here I am, trying to be something I'm not.
My irritation isn't helped by the fact that the Protectorate didn't do their jobs well either. What was Dauntless thinking? He just kept running head-first into the first conflict he could, and Armsmaster should have focused on mobility over strength to delay them longer. It's like they were trying to be as ineffectual as possible.
By the time Assault and Battery arrived the Empire had already escaped and gone to ground. Triumph was immediately countered the moment he stepped on the scene. Miss Militia and Velocity were injured from an ABB attack right before the operation. Did anything else go wrong that I don't know about?
Huffing in the still empty interrogation room, I collapsed into the chair. Ariel was currently healing all the injured in the infirmary on the other side of the Headquarters. Revere was quickly sent out to try and find the Nazis, but he got foamed again before he could spot them. After dissolving it off him a second time, they were to the wind.
Finally, after over an hour of waiting, the door opened. Ariel zips across the room and coils around me while glaring at the trooper who escorted her. Stroking her head fins, I inspect the group in the doorway.
One was a stiff, broad-shouldered mountain of discipline in a standard PRT uniform. I wanted to gloss over him, but something in the back of my head told me not to trust him. Keeping my posture deceptively calm, I force myself to take in the other two occupants as they walk in.
The first to step into the room was a frowning Assault, his usual enthusiasm missing. His visible forehead was creased, and his muscles were tense.
The next to enter was a blonde woman with a severe countenance. Her suit strained to contain her, the buttons visibly reinforced. Her wide berth did nothing to detract from her intense gaze. There was a small accumulation of sweat on her brow, and a slight crinkle of pain settled naturally in her face.
As she takes the seat across from me, I feel my patience fraying.
She clears her throat. "Noah, would you mind giving your statement on the altercation that happened earlier today?"
I cross my arms and lean back in the supremely uncomfortable chair. "It was an unmitigated disaster. What else can be said about what happened?"
Assault winces. "Listen, I know we dropped the ball -"
"Dropped the ball?" I interrupt. "What I saw out there wasn't the respectable heroes of valor you pedal to the masses. What I saw looked like a cape's first night out. There was no communication, no teamwork, no backup, and no tactics! What I want to know is how the hell this could have happened."
Assault looks away while the woman who hasn't even introduced herself raises her hackles. Who I can only assume is Director Piggot grits her teeth. "There were multiple moles that collaborated to ruin the chain of command and give conflicting misinformation."
I feel my reserves bubble in concert with my rising anger. Taking a deep breath, I forcefully calm my raging powers. The metal table groans in my grip, drawing the room's wary attention.
"Is that the reason that despite being a registered independent hero, I've been waiting a whole damn hour in this barren interrogation room? That even though my healing has received a certification, somebody agitated Ariel here enough to piss her off?" Ariel tightened her grip on me and vocalized a growl.
Assault twitched and sent a bewildered look at the wall that was clearly a one-way mirror. Piggot just stares me down as if daring me to continue being offended.
She eventually nods with a pained reluctance.
I take a deep breath before muttering an Aria to clear my tumultuous emotions. With new clarity, I sort the events of today with some help from my four active partitions.
"Were the moles at least taken care of?"
My question prompted a vicious gleam in her eye. "Yes, they have."
I nod silently while watching them both carefully. Assault has started leaning against the wall, still looking confused about something I couldn't fathom. Piggot has relaxed a fraction, seeing me calm myself. She gained a calculated look from the moment I started invoking my magecraft.
After gathering the bits and pieces of the battle from the partitions, I began to recap the battle. "I have been sending Revere to the headquarters every day after the arrests. I didn't trust the transports being unmolested, given the precedent of Brockton Bay's other captures in the past. What I didn't expect was the entire roster of Nazis waiting in the open."
Piggot glared at my judgmental tone on her history of success with rooting out the Empire. Assault sheepishly rubbed his neck.
"Upon seeing the PRT escort, Menja and Fenja immediately grew in size and destroyed the street, bringing the precession to a grinding halt. At this point, I assume someone fed Dauntless bogus intel on who was close by, because instead of bombarding them from above, he rushed in and got blasted through a side alley by Stormtiger."
Assault coughed into his fist while Piggot tightened her fists in anger.
"The PRT troopers then hopped out of the vans and started laying down confoam on the opposition, but again, Stormtiger knocked it aside. In between volleys, Crusader sent an equal number of shades to eliminate the issue. Using a mech that I recognized as utilizing tech from Gearbreak, Armsmaster engaged Fenja in combat, quickly getting the upper hand. Seeing Alabaster en route to distract Dauntless, I summoned a monster in his path and entered combat myself." I sigh in annoyance.
"I'll admit my faults today included this very action. If I had stayed hidden and provided a more supportive role, the battle probably would have gone better. Anyway, I distracted Menja and launched Crusader through a wall, temporarily knocking him out of the fight, and summoned two hydrokinetics to overwhelm and contain Krieg for the moment. Gearbreak handled Stormtiger."
Assault offered a bottle of water he had... somewhere on his person. Taking a few gulps, I sigh in relief and nod my thanks, an action he returned.
"I disarmed Menja by breaking her spear, and one of my bigger summons was able to contest pretty easily with an unarmed Menja, so I had a moment to tell Revere to keep an eye on Night and Fog, since they could arguably change the flow of battle the most. While sending two weaker minions to herd Othalla away from the fight, I shouted to Armsmaster and Dauntless that they were on the move. At this point, Dauntless charged out of the alley and went into Fog to, I'm guessing hold them off?" Piggot grunts her agreement.
"Right. This was when the prisoner vans had their doors blown off."
"By what?" Piggot asks sharply.
I shrug. "No idea. My best guess is shaped charges considering the way the doors alone were destroyed."
Assault raised his hand. "If they had their escape already set up, what was the point of the big fight in the first place?"
I shake my head. "They had no clue about them either. They paused too long."
Piggot steeples her pudgy fingers. "So someone else was there?"
"No, they were blown outwards. Those vans were sabotaged before they were loaded up. Someone wants the competition between the Empire and ABB to continue. The only option I see is Coil."
That gives them both pause.
"Coil?" Assault asks. "But that guy never gets involved with this stuff. Sure, he holds a decent territory, but we don't even know if he's a parahuman."
I take a moment to stare at them in befuddlement.
"You don't know if the Tinkertech armed mercenaries are led by a parahuman? The gang that can and has held off both the Empire and the ABB without any further support? The gang that, somehow, never fails their objective no matter the curveballs thrown their way? That doesn't scream Thinker backing to you at all?"
Assault blanks. Piggot white-knuckles the table, tremors of fury jiggling her jowls.
"If we look at Coil as a scheme or plan-based Thinker, maybe even a precog, then this might be his attempt to mastermind something. As much as I hate to say it, we may want to focus on the other issues that popped up today to see if this was a distraction for him."
Assault breathes a sharp inhale while Piggot stills. I give them a moment to think about this.
"Assault, call a meeting for directly after this. Get a list of incident reports on my desk before then and set the recording of this to class four clearance."
The kinetic hero almost stumbles as he scrambles to follow orders. Piggot glares at me like this is somehow my fault, so I wait her out.
"Please continue." She says through grinding teeth.
I graciously ignore her rude tone. "After the van's doors were blown, Hookwolf charged me while Rune threw a van at Armsmaster, which I believe damaged his mech too much to be serviceable. Crusader had then rejoined the fight, so I split my hydrokinetics to attack Crusader and aid Armsmaster. I had defeated Menja for the moment, so I sent my larger summon at Hookwolf to buy me time. I dispersed the majority of Fog with an arrow, and that gave Dauntless the opening to knock out Night. This is when the Nazis started to overwhelm my summons and began beating them one by one. Triumph bought us a second, but Cricket hard-countered him. After getting hit by a van from Rune, Hookwolf rammed into my side, and I spent the last of my energy on a final shot on him to enable Dauntless again."
Piggot took several deep breaths, each slowly clearing out her flushed face and maybe controlling her anger.
"Thank you for your assistance and cooperation. I need to update the procedures to account for a high-level Thinker operating in the Bay." She groans as she stands and turns to the door.
"Am I free to leave?"
She stiffens and gives a controlled nod before exiting the room. The mountain of suspicion had a lilt of mocking in his tone. "Do you need an escort out?"
I flash a swift glare his way before smiling behind my mask. "Nope."
I'm then flashed out and into my tool shed.
I remove my mask and cowl as Ariel slithers outside. Walking over to a bench, I sit down and begin to ponder. There are far too many issues inside the PRT. This is what the Protectorate hires so many Thinkers for. It feels like I'm missing something. A part of the puzzle is hidden from view, and I know that I'm going to hate learning about it. Then, I feel a tug on my soul.
The change is not immediate. Half-formed conglomerates of training, discipline, and muscle memory slowly trickle down my spine and into my nerves. There's a switch that appears in my soul, and two robots are sealed within it. I feel myself grow inexplicably sturdier, as the hardlight generator in Poison is changed into a shield module. The power of the Enforcer Class finishes linking up by synchronizing with three skill trees.
Shaking my head, I resolve to distract myself with some research. I step outside while dismissing The Jump, and see Ariel greeting Theo on the porch.
He sees me and excitedly runs over. "Arnold, Arnold! That costume is so cool!"
I grin at him and ruffle his blonde hair. "Thanks, little man. Say, I have to get back to work in the shed. Can I trust you to keep an eye on my pets in the meantime?"
His eyes widen to saucers. "Can I?"
I chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Someone has to, and poor Ariel had a ton of hero work today, so she needs a hand to keep everyone on track. So, will you help me out?"
His now messy hair flails as he nods at Mach speed. I thank him before summoning all the ship pets on the lawn. As I turn to head back, my eye catches a tearfully smiling Kayden holding her baby close. I grin in acknowledgment to her as a childish squeal signifies the critters' revolt against authority. She laughs at the predicament her stepson is in while Aster makes babbles and grabbing motions towards the chaos. She goes to help Theo and nods in return.
Once I'm inside the workshop, I undo my faunus transformation, materialize The Mirror, and unsummon Medusa's armor to set up SCP-919 against the wall. With the eleven partitions, I start setting up my favored bounded fields and the gradation air mirrors all around the room.
Flipping the switch, Wolf and Saint appear with an energized lightshow. As I place The Mirror into a scanning magecraft circle, I direct Wolf and Saint over to the workbench to start upgrading them with mechashift and Transformer techniques.
Line Break
I crack my back in a satisfying stretch. I've all but locked myself in my workshop for the past five days, having Thomas lie that I was sick, all to accomplish two things. Train the mirror, and train The Mirror.
SCP-919 is still, despite not being alive, one of my summons. This means my Trainer power can pull the weight to allow small tweaks. Using the framework that the Celestial Menagerie created to better utilize its anomalous properties, I coached the cursed artifact into doing the same for any of my summons. With this, I can allow all of my combatants to double up on training while retaining both sets of memories. With enough mirrors, I can have my entire training field covered by its ability. After finally succeeding, it meant the next of my self-appointed tasks would take half as long.
With my newest Clow Card, I was teaching it to break its limits. The concept of mirrors is a potent one, with enough uses to be a magus family line by itself. I have been given the opportunity to both study and improve on the masterfully created capacity to mirror entities.
The Mirror was a beautiful artifact of magic. The imitation it creates is not limited by shape or size, and it completely ignores magic resistance like Medusa's. However, it could not copy powers that were out of context for it, so a copy of me would have Clow magic, but not aura or magecraft. This was the first limitation I hoped to surpass.
My prior experience with learning conceptual Projection gave me a decent starting point, but that was with magecraft. Translating that into Clow-style magic was a gloriously complex puzzle that was a major leap forward. This meant I could also employ a similar translation and greatly improve my reinforcement magecraft by emulating the enhancement method used with The Jump. It also meant The Mirror can now make a perfect copy of anything it can "see," although it was more expensive.
The next test was to imitate SCP-919 and utilize a mirror dimension and higher mental planes to improve its efficiency, as well as similarly deliver memories. The unknown magic system that affected the SCP was not something I alone could find a direct translation for, but it was still possible for The Mirror to learn it.
By copying me, it gained an identical number of partitions as the moment I was copied, and with an intellect wired directly with magic, it found a way on its own. The improvements allowed its previous cost while retaining the now much greater capability. When the copy stops emulating its target, memories are stored within the Card and can be passed on before it is unsummoned to the target if needed.
Trying to make sense of the new formulae was mind-numbing, and although it gave me something new to experiment with, I have far too much on my plate as it is. I shelved the project to focus more on the training and my previous work with Mystic Code creation.
The last restriction we tried to work through was to reflect attacks. This ran into a problem right away, as late into the third day, I learned that Clow Cards are very fragile to outside force. Just a single arrow was enough to undo the materialization. That threw the whole idea into question, but we found a workaround.
It may not be able to take and reflect attacks at the aggressor, but The Mirror could duplicate the attack on itself, and thus intercept the original. Shooting a smite at the Card now results in a mirrored smite nullifying the action. The Mirror can only provide one dose of mutually assured destruction at a time, but that is still an okay counter to upper-tier Blasters.
In the background, I've used most of my partitions to continue researching materials for Mystic Codes and even started dabbling in magic circle programming.
The local Wiccan store had an unfortunate focus on incense, tarot, candles, and smudge sticks. The place, I'm pretty sure, was lacing the flammable stuff, as the cashier got pretty defensive when I asked for a more comprehensive ingredient list. That and there were several people in the back room smoking something much stronger than common herbs. I still bought some of everything and did some preliminary tests. It turns out my affinity made using them highly inefficient, to the point that it is almost certain that making an alternative with stone or crystal would be better. Oh, well.
The stones I stockpiled included a ton of variety compared to the barebones materials I could find in outdoor decor spots. Bloodstone was very interesting, as it showed to be the best battery I could find, holding extreme amounts of prana before breaking down. Tigereye was odd, as it seemed to work as a decent booster to the range of any spells cast through it, but gave pitiful bonuses in strength and tanked the efficiency unless it was done at certain angles. Citrine seemed to be very good at safely dispersing excess prana, not unlike a Mystic heatsink. Moonstone feels... odd, but I haven't found out why yet. It doesn't seem to have any strange property beyond sharing my elements, at least that I've discovered. The other stones seemed to just have various affinities, but I had hardly finished testing them all.
My Granite Guardians did get a couple of upgrades, with steel "veins," quartz eyes, a core of bloodstone, and several new rituals added to the creation process. With a strong synergy of sacrifice and blood magic, my Guardians are a whole new beast compared to before. Let's see you one-shot them this time, you nazi bastards!
Opening the shed door, I feel the chilling breeze of a frigid winter night. There was a snowstorm that swept over all of New England, but most cities were hit pretty lightly in comparison to the foot and some odd fluffy banks I began wading through. The porch was lit up, a lonely beacon splashing the uneven drifts in soft shadow. Standing in the doorway is a heavily bundled old man, frost collecting on his beard. Thomas looks up and shivers.
"Damn, that is creepy. You know your eyes glow amber in the dark, kid?"
I smirk tiredly and highlight my slightly elongated canines. "Most faunus have very good night vision, even if the animal they borrow traits from isn't known for it. Just got lucky, yeah?"
Thomas scoffs before turning serious. "You haven't been in the café since the breakout. You haven't taken a proper day off in over a week. You've taken longer and longer to leave that shed every day, and now, it's gone past midnight before you drag yourself out."
I wince. I really haven't been taking the best care of myself. I felt inadequate like I should have been spending my time better, and maybe that would have made enough of a difference. Maybe then I wouldn't have failed.
"I'm fine." I lie. "I was just working off my emotions." More like working around them, I didn't feel any better. "I've hit a few breakthroughs with my research, so I was -"
"Avoiding the problem. Don't bother trying to deny it. I've been around long enough to have run into it plenty. You're hiding from your feelings by drowning yourself in work."
Thomas is staring me down, and I'm the first to break eye contact.
"I'm not going to pretend this is outrageous. I'd be feeling the same if I were in your shoes, but that doesn't make it any better. If all it takes is one mistake, one instance of failure, to smother your ambition, then give up being a hero. I shouldn't have to say it, but heroes fail. All across the globe, heroes are nearly constantly failing. The thing that makes them heroes is that they don't let feelings of inadequacy stop them from doing the right thing."
I can't find the words to say, so I nod in silence. Thomas stands there for a moment before sighing.
"C'mon. Kayden made some pasta. It's taking up space in the fridge that could be better used for my beer, so clear it out, will ya?" I feel a tiny smile form from his dramatics. My stomach growls lightly at the thought of food. Yeah, pasta sounds great right about now.
Walking inside, I spot a pile of pets on the couch. Beneath it all is a smiling Theo.
Thomas follows my eyes and softens. "He's been herding your summons to the front yard every day. Said that you shouldn't be disturbed while doing superhero work. Even with seven heads to track, he's done a stellar job at keeping them all happy."
As I stare at that honest smile, I feel a well of determination bubble to the surface. My spirits rose and the first true grin I've had for days spread across my face. This is all the motivation I need to get back up. I'll see a thousand defeats before I give in with innocent happiness like this to protect.
"He's a great kid."
Woof. I'm trying my best to include these emotional scenes, but I myself am not a very emotional person, and it's been an... interesting challenge to write them from the perspective of Noah. With his Aura unlocked, he should have even more intense emotions, so the difference in how I would act and how he should act is poignant.
Hopefully, I can keep this up because I've been hitting more writer's blocks as the story continues, and the original plot is still a ways away.
That being said, don't be surprised if this story gets updated more slowly from now on. My well of motivation is seriously waning, and the research needed to write the more technical elements I have planned is running merry hell on my mental faculties.
But anyway, please leave your thoughts, and thanks for reading!
I was pacing the room, stewing in my frustration. Thinking back, even though we haven't done any teamwork or training exercises, maybe I should have summoned Marblehoof. With his prodigal strength, he's admitted to having some difficulty controlling his power, but with Alabaster and the twins there...
I groan, hastening my walk to bleed off some energy. If I want to blame myself for anything, it should be my pointless pride. I thought I could handle the remaining capes the Empire could field. I didn't even try to do things smart and stay hidden, I didn't take the support role I should have. My useless pride pushed me into a direct confrontation instead of where my skills excel. Even in the vague memories tied to my Huntsman training, I wasn't the frontline of my team, but here I am, trying to be something I'm not.
My irritation isn't helped by the fact that the Protectorate didn't do their jobs well either. What was Dauntless thinking? He just kept running head-first into the first conflict he could, and Armsmaster should have focused on mobility over strength to delay them longer. It's like they were trying to be as ineffectual as possible.
By the time Assault and Battery arrived the Empire had already escaped and gone to ground. Triumph was immediately countered the moment he stepped on the scene. Miss Militia and Velocity were injured from an ABB attack right before the operation. Did anything else go wrong that I don't know about?
Huffing in the still empty interrogation room, I collapsed into the chair. Ariel was currently healing all the injured in the infirmary on the other side of the Headquarters. Revere was quickly sent out to try and find the Nazis, but he got foamed again before he could spot them. After dissolving it off him a second time, they were to the wind.
Finally, after over an hour of waiting, the door opened. Ariel zips across the room and coils around me while glaring at the trooper who escorted her. Stroking her head fins, I inspect the group in the doorway.
One was a stiff, broad-shouldered mountain of discipline in a standard PRT uniform. I wanted to gloss over him, but something in the back of my head told me not to trust him. Keeping my posture deceptively calm, I force myself to take in the other two occupants as they walk in.
The first to step into the room was a frowning Assault, his usual enthusiasm missing. His visible forehead was creased, and his muscles were tense.
The next to enter was a blonde woman with a severe countenance. Her suit strained to contain her, the buttons visibly reinforced. Her wide berth did nothing to detract from her intense gaze. There was a small accumulation of sweat on her brow, and a slight crinkle of pain settled naturally in her face.
As she takes the seat across from me, I feel my patience fraying.
She clears her throat. "Noah, would you mind giving your statement on the altercation that happened earlier today?"
I cross my arms and lean back in the supremely uncomfortable chair. "It was an unmitigated disaster. What else can be said about what happened?"
Assault winces. "Listen, I know we dropped the ball -"
"Dropped the ball?" I interrupt. "What I saw out there wasn't the respectable heroes of valor you pedal to the masses. What I saw looked like a cape's first night out. There was no communication, no teamwork, no backup, and no tactics! What I want to know is how the hell this could have happened."
Assault looks away while the woman who hasn't even introduced herself raises her hackles. Who I can only assume is Director Piggot grits her teeth. "There were multiple moles that collaborated to ruin the chain of command and give conflicting misinformation."
I feel my reserves bubble in concert with my rising anger. Taking a deep breath, I forcefully calm my raging powers. The metal table groans in my grip, drawing the room's wary attention.
"Is that the reason that despite being a registered independent hero, I've been waiting a whole damn hour in this barren interrogation room? That even though my healing has received a certification, somebody agitated Ariel here enough to piss her off?" Ariel tightened her grip on me and vocalized a growl.
Assault twitched and sent a bewildered look at the wall that was clearly a one-way mirror. Piggot just stares me down as if daring me to continue being offended.
She eventually nods with a pained reluctance.
I take a deep breath before muttering an Aria to clear my tumultuous emotions. With new clarity, I sort the events of today with some help from my four active partitions.
"Were the moles at least taken care of?"
My question prompted a vicious gleam in her eye. "Yes, they have."
I nod silently while watching them both carefully. Assault has started leaning against the wall, still looking confused about something I couldn't fathom. Piggot has relaxed a fraction, seeing me calm myself. She gained a calculated look from the moment I started invoking my magecraft.
After gathering the bits and pieces of the battle from the partitions, I began to recap the battle. "I have been sending Revere to the headquarters every day after the arrests. I didn't trust the transports being unmolested, given the precedent of Brockton Bay's other captures in the past. What I didn't expect was the entire roster of Nazis waiting in the open."
Piggot glared at my judgmental tone on her history of success with rooting out the Empire. Assault sheepishly rubbed his neck.
"Upon seeing the PRT escort, Menja and Fenja immediately grew in size and destroyed the street, bringing the precession to a grinding halt. At this point, I assume someone fed Dauntless bogus intel on who was close by, because instead of bombarding them from above, he rushed in and got blasted through a side alley by Stormtiger."
Assault coughed into his fist while Piggot tightened her fists in anger.
"The PRT troopers then hopped out of the vans and started laying down confoam on the opposition, but again, Stormtiger knocked it aside. In between volleys, Crusader sent an equal number of shades to eliminate the issue. Using a mech that I recognized as utilizing tech from Gearbreak, Armsmaster engaged Fenja in combat, quickly getting the upper hand. Seeing Alabaster en route to distract Dauntless, I summoned a monster in his path and entered combat myself." I sigh in annoyance.
"I'll admit my faults today included this very action. If I had stayed hidden and provided a more supportive role, the battle probably would have gone better. Anyway, I distracted Menja and launched Crusader through a wall, temporarily knocking him out of the fight, and summoned two hydrokinetics to overwhelm and contain Krieg for the moment. Gearbreak handled Stormtiger."
Assault offered a bottle of water he had... somewhere on his person. Taking a few gulps, I sigh in relief and nod my thanks, an action he returned.
"I disarmed Menja by breaking her spear, and one of my bigger summons was able to contest pretty easily with an unarmed Menja, so I had a moment to tell Revere to keep an eye on Night and Fog, since they could arguably change the flow of battle the most. While sending two weaker minions to herd Othalla away from the fight, I shouted to Armsmaster and Dauntless that they were on the move. At this point, Dauntless charged out of the alley and went into Fog to, I'm guessing hold them off?" Piggot grunts her agreement.
"Right. This was when the prisoner vans had their doors blown off."
"By what?" Piggot asks sharply.
I shrug. "No idea. My best guess is shaped charges considering the way the doors alone were destroyed."
Assault raised his hand. "If they had their escape already set up, what was the point of the big fight in the first place?"
I shake my head. "They had no clue about them either. They paused too long."
Piggot steeples her pudgy fingers. "So someone else was there?"
"No, they were blown outwards. Those vans were sabotaged before they were loaded up. Someone wants the competition between the Empire and ABB to continue. The only option I see is Coil."
That gives them both pause.
"Coil?" Assault asks. "But that guy never gets involved with this stuff. Sure, he holds a decent territory, but we don't even know if he's a parahuman."
I take a moment to stare at them in befuddlement.
"You don't know if the Tinkertech armed mercenaries are led by a parahuman? The gang that can and has held off both the Empire and the ABB without any further support? The gang that, somehow, never fails their objective no matter the curveballs thrown their way? That doesn't scream Thinker backing to you at all?"
Assault blanks. Piggot white-knuckles the table, tremors of fury jiggling her jowls.
"If we look at Coil as a scheme or plan-based Thinker, maybe even a precog, then this might be his attempt to mastermind something. As much as I hate to say it, we may want to focus on the other issues that popped up today to see if this was a distraction for him."
Assault breathes a sharp inhale while Piggot stills. I give them a moment to think about this.
"Assault, call a meeting for directly after this. Get a list of incident reports on my desk before then and set the recording of this to class four clearance."
The kinetic hero almost stumbles as he scrambles to follow orders. Piggot glares at me like this is somehow my fault, so I wait her out.
"Please continue." She says through grinding teeth.
I graciously ignore her rude tone. "After the van's doors were blown, Hookwolf charged me while Rune threw a van at Armsmaster, which I believe damaged his mech too much to be serviceable. Crusader had then rejoined the fight, so I split my hydrokinetics to attack Crusader and aid Armsmaster. I had defeated Menja for the moment, so I sent my larger summon at Hookwolf to buy me time. I dispersed the majority of Fog with an arrow, and that gave Dauntless the opening to knock out Night. This is when the Nazis started to overwhelm my summons and began beating them one by one. Triumph bought us a second, but Cricket hard-countered him. After getting hit by a van from Rune, Hookwolf rammed into my side, and I spent the last of my energy on a final shot on him to enable Dauntless again."
Piggot took several deep breaths, each slowly clearing out her flushed face and maybe controlling her anger.
"Thank you for your assistance and cooperation. I need to update the procedures to account for a high-level Thinker operating in the Bay." She groans as she stands and turns to the door.
"Am I free to leave?"
She stiffens and gives a controlled nod before exiting the room. The mountain of suspicion had a lilt of mocking in his tone. "Do you need an escort out?"
I flash a swift glare his way before smiling behind my mask. "Nope."
I'm then flashed out and into my tool shed.
I remove my mask and cowl as Ariel slithers outside. Walking over to a bench, I sit down and begin to ponder. There are far too many issues inside the PRT. This is what the Protectorate hires so many Thinkers for. It feels like I'm missing something. A part of the puzzle is hidden from view, and I know that I'm going to hate learning about it. Then, I feel a tug on my soul.
The change is not immediate. Half-formed conglomerates of training, discipline, and muscle memory slowly trickle down my spine and into my nerves. There's a switch that appears in my soul, and two robots are sealed within it. I feel myself grow inexplicably sturdier, as the hardlight generator in Poison is changed into a shield module. The power of the Enforcer Class finishes linking up by synchronizing with three skill trees.
Shaking my head, I resolve to distract myself with some research. I step outside while dismissing The Jump, and see Ariel greeting Theo on the porch.
He sees me and excitedly runs over. "Arnold, Arnold! That costume is so cool!"
I grin at him and ruffle his blonde hair. "Thanks, little man. Say, I have to get back to work in the shed. Can I trust you to keep an eye on my pets in the meantime?"
His eyes widen to saucers. "Can I?"
I chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Someone has to, and poor Ariel had a ton of hero work today, so she needs a hand to keep everyone on track. So, will you help me out?"
His now messy hair flails as he nods at Mach speed. I thank him before summoning all the ship pets on the lawn. As I turn to head back, my eye catches a tearfully smiling Kayden holding her baby close. I grin in acknowledgment to her as a childish squeal signifies the critters' revolt against authority. She laughs at the predicament her stepson is in while Aster makes babbles and grabbing motions towards the chaos. She goes to help Theo and nods in return.
Once I'm inside the workshop, I undo my faunus transformation, materialize The Mirror, and unsummon Medusa's armor to set up SCP-919 against the wall. With the eleven partitions, I start setting up my favored bounded fields and the gradation air mirrors all around the room.
Flipping the switch, Wolf and Saint appear with an energized lightshow. As I place The Mirror into a scanning magecraft circle, I direct Wolf and Saint over to the workbench to start upgrading them with mechashift and Transformer techniques.
Line Break
I crack my back in a satisfying stretch. I've all but locked myself in my workshop for the past five days, having Thomas lie that I was sick, all to accomplish two things. Train the mirror, and train The Mirror.
SCP-919 is still, despite not being alive, one of my summons. This means my Trainer power can pull the weight to allow small tweaks. Using the framework that the Celestial Menagerie created to better utilize its anomalous properties, I coached the cursed artifact into doing the same for any of my summons. With this, I can allow all of my combatants to double up on training while retaining both sets of memories. With enough mirrors, I can have my entire training field covered by its ability. After finally succeeding, it meant the next of my self-appointed tasks would take half as long.
With my newest Clow Card, I was teaching it to break its limits. The concept of mirrors is a potent one, with enough uses to be a magus family line by itself. I have been given the opportunity to both study and improve on the masterfully created capacity to mirror entities.
The Mirror was a beautiful artifact of magic. The imitation it creates is not limited by shape or size, and it completely ignores magic resistance like Medusa's. However, it could not copy powers that were out of context for it, so a copy of me would have Clow magic, but not aura or magecraft. This was the first limitation I hoped to surpass.
My prior experience with learning conceptual Projection gave me a decent starting point, but that was with magecraft. Translating that into Clow-style magic was a gloriously complex puzzle that was a major leap forward. This meant I could also employ a similar translation and greatly improve my reinforcement magecraft by emulating the enhancement method used with The Jump. It also meant The Mirror can now make a perfect copy of anything it can "see," although it was more expensive.
The next test was to imitate SCP-919 and utilize a mirror dimension and higher mental planes to improve its efficiency, as well as similarly deliver memories. The unknown magic system that affected the SCP was not something I alone could find a direct translation for, but it was still possible for The Mirror to learn it.
By copying me, it gained an identical number of partitions as the moment I was copied, and with an intellect wired directly with magic, it found a way on its own. The improvements allowed its previous cost while retaining the now much greater capability. When the copy stops emulating its target, memories are stored within the Card and can be passed on before it is unsummoned to the target if needed.
Trying to make sense of the new formulae was mind-numbing, and although it gave me something new to experiment with, I have far too much on my plate as it is. I shelved the project to focus more on the training and my previous work with Mystic Code creation.
The last restriction we tried to work through was to reflect attacks. This ran into a problem right away, as late into the third day, I learned that Clow Cards are very fragile to outside force. Just a single arrow was enough to undo the materialization. That threw the whole idea into question, but we found a workaround.
It may not be able to take and reflect attacks at the aggressor, but The Mirror could duplicate the attack on itself, and thus intercept the original. Shooting a smite at the Card now results in a mirrored smite nullifying the action. The Mirror can only provide one dose of mutually assured destruction at a time, but that is still an okay counter to upper-tier Blasters.
In the background, I've used most of my partitions to continue researching materials for Mystic Codes and even started dabbling in magic circle programming.
The local Wiccan store had an unfortunate focus on incense, tarot, candles, and smudge sticks. The place, I'm pretty sure, was lacing the flammable stuff, as the cashier got pretty defensive when I asked for a more comprehensive ingredient list. That and there were several people in the back room smoking something much stronger than common herbs. I still bought some of everything and did some preliminary tests. It turns out my affinity made using them highly inefficient, to the point that it is almost certain that making an alternative with stone or crystal would be better. Oh, well.
The stones I stockpiled included a ton of variety compared to the barebones materials I could find in outdoor decor spots. Bloodstone was very interesting, as it showed to be the best battery I could find, holding extreme amounts of prana before breaking down. Tigereye was odd, as it seemed to work as a decent booster to the range of any spells cast through it, but gave pitiful bonuses in strength and tanked the efficiency unless it was done at certain angles. Citrine seemed to be very good at safely dispersing excess prana, not unlike a Mystic heatsink. Moonstone feels... odd, but I haven't found out why yet. It doesn't seem to have any strange property beyond sharing my elements, at least that I've discovered. The other stones seemed to just have various affinities, but I had hardly finished testing them all.
My Granite Guardians did get a couple of upgrades, with steel "veins," quartz eyes, a core of bloodstone, and several new rituals added to the creation process. With a strong synergy of sacrifice and blood magic, my Guardians are a whole new beast compared to before. Let's see you one-shot them this time, you nazi bastards!
Opening the shed door, I feel the chilling breeze of a frigid winter night. There was a snowstorm that swept over all of New England, but most cities were hit pretty lightly in comparison to the foot and some odd fluffy banks I began wading through. The porch was lit up, a lonely beacon splashing the uneven drifts in soft shadow. Standing in the doorway is a heavily bundled old man, frost collecting on his beard. Thomas looks up and shivers.
"Damn, that is creepy. You know your eyes glow amber in the dark, kid?"
I smirk tiredly and highlight my slightly elongated canines. "Most faunus have very good night vision, even if the animal they borrow traits from isn't known for it. Just got lucky, yeah?"
Thomas scoffs before turning serious. "You haven't been in the café since the breakout. You haven't taken a proper day off in over a week. You've taken longer and longer to leave that shed every day, and now, it's gone past midnight before you drag yourself out."
I wince. I really haven't been taking the best care of myself. I felt inadequate like I should have been spending my time better, and maybe that would have made enough of a difference. Maybe then I wouldn't have failed.
"I'm fine." I lie. "I was just working off my emotions." More like working around them, I didn't feel any better. "I've hit a few breakthroughs with my research, so I was -"
"Avoiding the problem. Don't bother trying to deny it. I've been around long enough to have run into it plenty. You're hiding from your feelings by drowning yourself in work."
Thomas is staring me down, and I'm the first to break eye contact.
"I'm not going to pretend this is outrageous. I'd be feeling the same if I were in your shoes, but that doesn't make it any better. If all it takes is one mistake, one instance of failure, to smother your ambition, then give up being a hero. I shouldn't have to say it, but heroes fail. All across the globe, heroes are nearly constantly failing. The thing that makes them heroes is that they don't let feelings of inadequacy stop them from doing the right thing."
I can't find the words to say, so I nod in silence. Thomas stands there for a moment before sighing.
"C'mon. Kayden made some pasta. It's taking up space in the fridge that could be better used for my beer, so clear it out, will ya?" I feel a tiny smile form from his dramatics. My stomach growls lightly at the thought of food. Yeah, pasta sounds great right about now.
Walking inside, I spot a pile of pets on the couch. Beneath it all is a smiling Theo.
Thomas follows my eyes and softens. "He's been herding your summons to the front yard every day. Said that you shouldn't be disturbed while doing superhero work. Even with seven heads to track, he's done a stellar job at keeping them all happy."
As I stare at that honest smile, I feel a well of determination bubble to the surface. My spirits rose and the first true grin I've had for days spread across my face. This is all the motivation I need to get back up. I'll see a thousand defeats before I give in with innocent happiness like this to protect.
"He's a great kid."
Woof. I'm trying my best to include these emotional scenes, but I myself am not a very emotional person, and it's been an... interesting challenge to write them from the perspective of Noah. With his Aura unlocked, he should have even more intense emotions, so the difference in how I would act and how he should act is poignant.
Hopefully, I can keep this up because I've been hitting more writer's blocks as the story continues, and the original plot is still a ways away.
That being said, don't be surprised if this story gets updated more slowly from now on. My well of motivation is seriously waning, and the research needed to write the more technical elements I have planned is running merry hell on my mental faculties.
Perhaps it's stereotypical for me to do, but roof hopping really is a freeing experience. All my problems seem to feel so much smaller when traveling over the concrete canopy of the great steel jungle. Ledges become a thrilling sight of the tiny colony going about its tasks with mind-numbing repetition. Even with how impossible it is, it feels like if I slip between the terraces, I'll go back to that bitter monotony. Every leap is pushing me further from that damning mediocrity, and the winds of liberation give a cool embrace as I hasten my journey.
I focus on hearing the city's breath, laborious and harsh from such extreme neglect. Trashcans rustling from desperate scavengers. Buildings groaning as time takes its toll. Horns blaring as the careless and the impatient start vengeful rivalries. The cries of beggars muted to the indifference and apathy surrounding them. Jeers, taunts, cat calls, insults, love, and a million other conversations blend into a constant hum of noise.
Brockton Bay is rotting, and the stench of its decay is choking. Every other alley has cardboard forts protecting the helpless and destitute. Streets are littered in garbage from the casual empty cans to the nefarious bullet casings and everything in between. No block is safe from gang tags and graffiti invading the worn bricks. Buildings that once held character and charm are abandoned and condemned. The city is dying and is neither quick nor painless in its passing.
All these issues help ground me, keeping me from losing myself in my freedom. It shackles me to my core, chaining my interests to this diseased shell of society. My obligations are daunting, but the effort will be worth it in the end.
It's humbling in a very pointed way. I was once down there, fighting tooth and nail to live even one more day in that modern gladiator ring. I didn't survive. I died in these cold streets, holding myself to a standard I never truly understood. I'll pay it back to this rancid city by staying true to that standard. I'll live a life to be proud of. I swear it.
Breathing a sigh as an Oath drapes over my soul, I land on a roof overlooking the entrance to Brockton General Hospital.
I don't know if my reaction to the breakout would be considered immature when considering the potential consequences of my prideful mistake, but the act of retreating from society is not the answer regardless. My self-imposed house arrest was counterintuitive. I can't help people if I don't leave my workshop, and I can't expand the Menagerie by researching magecraft for eternity. Not to mention the threat of Scion.
I shake my head as I drop the illusion hiding my form. Pity won't help any more than isolation will. I focus my attention on the street below and gracefully jump to the opposite sidewalk, landing silently with Medusa's half-cloak fluttering. There's a moment of sheer panic as my presence is noticed before my calm posture sparks a wave of wariness to take its place.
I walk toward the main reception area with a steady gait. Hearing the sudden murmur arising in the lobby, the man at the desk curiously looks up from his work. Again, panic followed by caution. I nod towards him.
"Hello. I'm Noah, an independent hero. I came here today to ask about your hospital's policy on parahuman healing. I have a couple of ways of healing that were all certified by the PRT, and I wanted to know of any procedures you have in place."
My voice at first startled the nervous man before he just started nodding along with my words. He cleared his throat.
"Uh, I'm sorry to say that I'm unsure about any cape-related rules. We only ever have Panacea come by to heal, and even then, she has been here enough that we just kinda... guide her around? To the different patients. I'm sorry, can I call the PRT to verify that you do have that certification?"
I nod and wave my hand to emote my nonchalance. "Sure, whatever you need to do."
He wrings his hands for a moment before clearing his throat again.
"Right, uh, of course. I mean, um, excuse me for just a bit then."
I nod and visibly shift my weight to a more relaxed stance. He sees the way I'm being patient and power walks over to an empty room nearby instead of using the phone at his desk. I turn to see several adults quickly avert their gaze. Some parents are nudging their children to stop staring, and a couple of teens were trying to act poised and calm, but their fidgets betrayed them. I see a particularly massive black man with a severe frown glaring at the back of his daughter's head as she struts towards me.
Despite her youth, apparent from the baby fat clinging to her high cheekbones, she seems like she'll grow into a very beautiful woman one day. Her clear mocha skin and symmetrical face carry a picture of intrigued confidence. Bright eyes hold a mischievous and rebellious spirit. Her lips were parted in a smug smile that revealed neat rows of white teeth. Her outfit was, disturbingly, quite trashy and... mature. Neon green tube top with exposed midriff, fishnet leggings ending in black zipped leather high heels, extremely short shorts, it was honestly something more common to see on a filthy drunk cougar in Merchant territory than a clean and sober minor. The bruises on her knuckles and her bandaged arm tell me why she's here today.
"Heya boyscout! I've heard of you, Noah, right? The guy who fought, like the entire Empire at once last week, right?"
The way her eyes scanned my body language and practically dissected my intentions was honestly impressive. I've met a few veterans at the café, regulars that are closer friends of Thomas, and only the retired spec ops have a similar level of social awareness.
"I was not alone in that fight, Dauntless and Armsmaster both were there from the beginning, and Triumph was also there by the end, but yes."
Her mischief took a back seat for a moment as a smidgen of respect either grew or faded before a teasing grin formed.
"Still failed though, didn't ya?"
My nod seemed to surprise her. "I did. I let my power get to my head, thinking myself invincible for a while now. I didn't expect such a big ambush and made too many mistakes in the end. I've been trying to rectify the issues, but it's a lot more difficult to reel in one's pride without losing confidence in turn."
Her face showed that she needed several trains of thought to pars my honest statement. Taking a moment, she looks at me with naked confusion.
"You uh, don't seem too beat up about it."
I could see this conversation had taken a turn she wasn't expecting. What she originally expected, I assume only God knows.
"I am. I'm annoyed at the fact I failed, but obsessing over it or sulking won't put them back behind bars, and it definitely won't help anyone. I figured a change to my day would help, so here I am, peddling some super healing."
Her attention latched onto that last word, and I could see her mind working overtime to find a way to extort heals from me. Before she could try, the receptionist returned looking an order of magnitude calmer.
"OK, so the PRT sent the file over, and I asked about any in-house rules or regulations for parahuman healing and only got the standard stuff, y'know, ask for permission, you are fully liable for lawsuits or a revoked certification if your healing fails, you have the right to withhold healing to belligerent patients, the usual. I can guide you over to the trauma center and intensive care whenever you're ready. I will ask, if you are looking for monetary compensation that you please be patient once more while I get my supervisor to negotiate a deal."
I wave off his concern. "I can help with most diseases that aren't deeply genetic, but for the case of injuries, it would be better to have Ariel get some more experience. As for money, normally I would advocate the idea that medical care is free, and for life-threatening issues I still do, but if the body can heal on its own without any particular concerns it's normally better to just let it heal on its own."
I shrug. "On the other hand, if the patient is fine with paying, I can still heal the more superficial stuff or speed up the process. Can you call that supervisor?"
Henry, as his name badge says, sighs in relief and nods before grabbing the desk phone.
"So, how much to heal a knife wound?"
I look back to see the girl giving a begging look. Behind my mask, I raise an eyebrow.
"How deep is it?"
She shrugs. "It was just a glancing cut. Not even a quarter inch according to Dad."
I think it over a bit. "Twenty bucks."
She fishes in her booty shorts for a crumbled bill and straightens it out to show a twenty. Handing it over with a smug grin, she preens in success. I chuckle at her antics. Grabbing the bill, I ask.
"Do I have your permission to heal you?"
The still unnamed girl gives a flat look. "Duh."
I rest my hand on her shoulder and direct a structural analysis toward her injuries, verifying that it was a two-inch long and two-tenths-inch deep gash. There was a bruise on her knee as well, but it was minor in comparison to her knuckles. I intoned under my breath.
"Heal."
Giving a soft moan, the bruises vanish and the tension in her shoulder fades. She leans in and gives me a catty smile while quietly teasing:
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
I sighed and shooed her stupidly proud face toward her father, who looked positively thunderous. I wince in sympathy behind my mask. She is in so much trouble.
"Noah, correct?"
I turn to see a sharply dressed woman with an aura of authority. Her graying brunette hair was tied in a tight bun and her hawkish hazel eyes picked my appearance apart for weakness. Her thin frame held a confidence earned through years of effort.
"That's right. It's nice to meet you, Miss...?"
"Marne. Tracey Marne. If you would please follow me, we can start our negotiations in a more quiet place."
"Lead the way, Ms. Marne."
I followed her into the conference room, feeling like a wild deer entering the wolf pack's cave. The talk felt like it took hours. There were dozens of iterations of price estimates, multiple times that obscure laws forced certain agendas across that I needed to find loopholes in, and all the while this vulture of a woman showed no emotion at cutting me off to introduce new problems.
After thirty minutes, I left the eldritch, time-bending conference room of doom. Although I kept my options as free as possible, I had to give a few concessions, including but not limited to a commission fee given to the patient if my healing wasn't required. I decided to go to the children's ward first and try to cheer them up with some fluffy friends.
I let the ship pets minus Snake free, all of whom had the uniform theme activated so they had little therapy vests on, and the children near unanimously squealed with joy. Only Weasel seemed bothered by this, giving a familiar horror-stricken face before the conclave of critters scattered around the room to administer affection. Weasel, meanwhile, scampered up my armor and hid under my half-cloak. I don't know what his problem is, but it was pretty amusing, as the many parents and minders around the room chuckled at his antics.
With invisible Fibers, I cast several discrete analyses on the patients to identify their maladies. Getting mostly common illnesses and one case of undiscovered but luckily benign tumor, I tally up the costs and direct my attention to my guide to deliver the verdict and cost to the parents. Most were fine with paying to clear up their kid's sickness, although one pair, in particular, looked spooked at the diagnosis.
With a subtle sign that I was cleared to heal them all, I again used invisible Fibers to connect to all of them and channel a quick Cleanse.
This repetition of diagnose, treat, and continue was only broken up by sending Ariel to the trauma center to heal as many injuries as she could. The cycle felt never-ending. Eventually, the patients didn't seem human anymore, instead, I began looking at them like problems to solve, and I knew that was time to wrap it up. I felt an almost alien resonance with that thought process, a feeling like if I followed that to its inevitable end, I wouldn't quite be human anymore. It was haunting, yet familiar... and I hated it with every fiber of my being.
I resolved to ignore it and finish up my latest "consultation." I had run out of children and emergency cases for the day, so I had swung by the patients who had issues in their brains, the ones that Panacea couldn't help. This was my fifth case in this ward.
"Do I have your permission to heal you?"
"Yup, that'd be great."
"Heal."
As my latest patient gets evaluated by his doctor, I make my way to a break room to relax a bit. I see some grapes with a label saying "FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION" and feel my tired smile grow. I take a seat by the free fruit and raise my arm as a perch.
"Revere."
My calm beckon to my companion is met with a flash of bright yellow fire appearing above my shoulder. With a dramatic flap of his gleaming wings, my phoenix lands on my outstretched arm as he disperses his entering sunfire. I lean back in the moderately comfortable sofa couch and start partaking off the vine, occasionally feeding Revere as well, to his delight.
The guide gave me an odd look before also taking a load off. The silence was only disturbed by the joyful trills of a pampered familiar. The grapes were room temperature but gave a satisfying snap as their fragile skin burst into juicy tartness. Looking around the room, I noticed the abundance of artwork hung up were children's drawings of Panacea, mostly in crayon. The fridge had several New Wave magnets holding up sticky notes.
"I see you're all very loyal to Panacea. Completely understandable. I feel the same way, what with how she saved my life a few months back."
The guide, Tim Dernin, looked away from Revere to give a measuring look before nodding my way.
"She gives it one hundred and ten percent, so we give back to her as much as we can. You know, she even shows up at night every so often. Says something like she couldn't sleep and wanted to put a few more hours in. We all know she isn't in the best mental state, but one of the first things you learn in the medical industry is that you can't force help onto someone who doesn't want it. Otherwise, you only make things worse. If she ever asks for help, we'll be there, and whenever we can we always tell her such."
I smile and nod, knowing I'd be right there with them if she ever needed help. I stand up and stretch a bit before sending Revere off to start patrolling again. The flare of golden flames startled my guide, before he, too, stood up.
Following him through the surprisingly labyrinthian hallways, we came upon the sight of my Milotic berating a confused Asian teenager over his newly healed finger. I translate her mother henning faithfully, and the young man gives an embarrassed apology to Ariel.
"How are you doing on aura?" I ask her after leaving her latest patient behind. Her tired trill conveyed how exhausted she was, and I smiled proudly at her.
"Well then, take a good rest for a while. I'll be fine from here." She nods before I desummon her. As I do, I feel the Menagerie at work.
The loom spins. The strings herded together, moving with a chaotic harmony that felt natural and protective. Weaving itself upon the frame, a snowy landscape formed. As a blizzard raged over a frozen terrain, a group of animals escaped the cold wrath of nature within a tundra forest. The creature strongly resembled a mundane caribou in shape, with predominantly brown fur and white shag around the hoofs and under the tail. Upon its head was a massive set of horns that swept smoothly to the side, spanning over five feet across from their forward facing points. The Anteka sported thick fur and thicker muscle, built to over power would-be predators for the sake of their herds. Sliding into place with a mental click, Energy Boost joined the board of switches.
Coming out of my soul, I feel my eye twitch in annoyance. Putting aside the poor timing of the acquisition, I can definitely make good use of Energy Boost the next time we return to the hospital.
Heading for the exit, I see Panacea zombie shuffle her way out of the ICU with a coffee in hand. I feel a pit of disgust as the swill's fragrance left me momentarily reeling. It was burnt, it was poorly filtered, it was of poor quality to begin with, and the amount of sugar in it would leave a full grown mammoth on a rush for weeks. It offended my professional sensibilities so much I almost cried. As I smell what had to be the worst attempt at instant coffee I had ever experienced, I shuddered from seeing Panacea drink it like it was nothing.
"Whoever made that coffee should be labeled a terrorist."
As my guide chokes on his tongue, I can tell by the confused look on Amy Dallon's face that I said that out loud. I cleared my throat and locked my mental anguish at the disgrace to all things caffeine behind my partitions.
"Ahem, uh, it's nice to see you again Panacea. How's life been treating you?"
With a dubious look at her, ugh, beverage, she snorts and presents the atrocity. "Do you really need to ask?"
I cringe behind my mask. "I pray for you, I really do. Although, it seems they went ignored if you have to resort to drinking that."
The young woman gives a darkly amused look while Mr. Dernin mumbles his agreement after noticing the black liquid.
"Unfortunately, while the gang war is clearly only getting started, the casualties are already mounting faster than the doctors can handle. If it gets too much worse, triage will be put into place. Nobody likes dealing with triage."
Her statement ripped any lighthearted air from my lungs. It's been a little over a week since the breakout and the big bad capes may have yet to hit the streets, but that didn't mean the gangs were quiet. Multiple times I've had to stop my research to intervene on one conflict or another. Poor Revere has been working overtime to both patrol the streets and interrupt smaller crimes. The BBPD now have a spare room just for him to flash with criminals he's subdued on his own.
"I've been busy clearing out the injured, and let me tell you it is never fun to heal a gangster on Monday and see him in the morgue on Wednesday."
I sigh and lean against the wall a bit. "It's a tragedy to see so many throw their lives away for such revolting reasons."
Panacea nods with a conflicted expression.
The hallway becomes deathly quiet. All three of us take a moment to mourn the innocent. The silence is cold, and I watch idly as a partition spirals downward for a minute before shaking myself clear of such thoughts.
Before I can try to bring the conversation back, I feel a deluge of pings from Revere. My heart stops. Cold dread washes over me as I feel my hands begin to shake.
"Lung..."
Howdy all! New chapter for ya!
I feel like the pacing of my story is off, is that just me? It feels wrong somehow. IDK, maybe I'm looking too far into it, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm messing up somewhere...
Anyway, please leave your thoughts, and thanks for reading!